Mother's Day
by SogniDoroBella
Summary: Once Upon a Kindergarten verse. Mother's day brings out a lot of feelings in the bitties. Belle-centric, some hints at Rumbelle and Snowing, mentions of Granny and MM and Belle's families. more or less, I made a sad. Lots of angst. I received this prompt a while back and meant to write it in May, but it just didn't pan out back then.


Belle tucked herself into a littler ball. Her back was against the smooth interior of their reading nook, face pressed into her skirt as she tried not to cry out loud. Two weeks ago their class learned about _outer space_ and their teacher had added the cylinder decorated like a rocket to the reading spot. It was hollow inside, and two kids could sometimes fit. Or hide.

It was Friday, and they were supposed to be finishing their seat work from the morning or having free play. Belle had pretended to be busy for a while before stuffing her paper in the bin and slipping into this spot when everyone else was busy.

"Can I sit there?"

She squeaked in surprise, head bumping lightly against the sides as she looked up to see a pair of yellow shorts, two fair skinned legs and sandals. The girl crouched down to reveal Mary Margaret giving her a tiny smile. "Can I sit in there, too? We're little, both of us, we can fit."

Belle scrubbed quickly at her face, scooting a little to the other side and making room. They were both small, the smallest in their class, and they fit easily side by side. She bit her bottom lip and studied the girl sitting beside her.

_Mary Margaret is pretty_, she thought, _like the princess in a book, even if her hair is still very short_. Today she wore a red bow which kept some of her hair from falling in her face. Her fringe was getting long again and sometimes fell into her eyes.

"You didn't make your po… po-em," Mary Margaret said, fishing for the new word for the sentences they were supposed to write at their center today. It was Friday, and their teacher had talked all week about how Sunday was a special day. Mother's day.

Belle's arms crossed and her bottom lip curled into a scowl. "Are you telling on me?"

The other girl's eyes went wide, and she shook her head a little. "No! I don't tell. But… you didn't do yours, and you always do your writing and do it really nice. But you didn't."

She wanted to tell Mary Margaret to go away to and to leave her alone. If Rum was here, he probably would have said it for her. But Rum had to see the dentist this afternoon and left after recess. He would be with Granny after school, but he wasn't here right now. Belle rubbed at her eyes again and sniffled like her nose was itchy and _not_ like she had been crying. "It's time for my class," she said, starting to scoot forward and crawl out of the reading spot.

"But they said the special class isn't today," Mary Margaret answered, her hand resting on Belle's arm. "You look sad."

"I didn't want to write it," Belle finally admitted, pressing back against the side of the nook again and chewing on her bottom lip. She tried to think about rockets and outer space and how far away the moon and sun and stars were. But it didn't work right and the big tears squeezed out anyway.

Mary Margaret scooted closer until their sides were pressed against each other. Her arm slid around Belle, and she gave a little hug. "But you're really good at writing."

Belle felt her bottom lip tremble again, and she bit it to make it stop. If she bit it just right and held really still and sometimes if she said her numbers or letters in her head it would stop hurting inside. Or sometimes if she thought of something happy. Like when Rum gave her the princess eraser last week, except now she wanted Rum here and he wasn't. And it wasn't working.

The girl beside her scooted a little closer. "Are you sad because of your mommy? I miss mine, too."

She finally let herself nod, a little sob slipping out, and Belle hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face again. It made her hurt all over, deep all the way inside. When they lived back in Australia, lots of people came over their house and were talking with her papa and saying how sorry they were. But she hid in the space behind her bed, or sometimes behind the coffee table in the corner where she could hug herself and not have to talk to anyone and not hear the _I'm sorry_ and _poor thing._

Mary Margaret's hand patted her shoulder softly. "Sometimes it makes me feel better to talk."

Another little sob worked its way out, and Belle couldn't stop the next few that followed it. She rubbed at her face, trying to curl into a smaller ball. "I w-want mummy."

"I know," Mary Margaret whispered, and when Belle finally lifted her head enough to look, she could see the big tears brimming up in her eyes. "Johanna helped me make a special book for my mommy. So I can write or draw a picture for her when I miss her. She was sick a really long time. Did yours get sick?"

Another little sob, and Belle's body jerked with it as she shook her head no. "Sh-she got hurt, and it made… everything went upside down and I don't 'member. And _je ne l'ai pas encore._"

"I'm sorry," Mary Margaret whispered softly, and she sounded like she meant it. Her hand patted Belle's shoulder for a long time, still hugging her. "You should tell your daddy. Sometimes I talk to mine or to Johanna, and it's a little better."

She shook her head again and gave a loud sniffle before turning her head and blinking at the other girl. "He… it makes Papa sad. I don't like him to be sad, too."

"But you shouldn't keep it inside, either," Mary Margaret whispered. She pushed something into Belle's arms. "Sometimes when I'm really sad I hug Emma. She makes it better."

Belle didn't know how it could help, but she didn't think it could hurt, either. And even if she _really really_ wanted her mummy, she knew Mary Margaret was only trying to be nice. She hugged the doll and sniffled hard.

"Just a sec," the other girl said. She crawled out of the nook returning a few moments later with some tissues. "Ruby's granny watches you sometimes, right?"

She nodded and blew her nose a lot of times, wadding up the messy tissues. "y-yes."

"You could talk to her maybe," Mary Margaret offered.

Belle gave a tiny nod, rubbing her eyes and blowing her nose one last time before adding it to the others. "I still really miss my mummy."

"I know," Mary Margaret repeated, giving her a hug. "Granny could help you make a book, though. You could write the poem and put it in there. And when you're sad you could put pictures or your words in there."

She stared down at the doll her lap, playing with the yellow yarn hair. "I threw away the paper," Belle whispered. "I got mad—"

"Hey, guys," came the too cheerful and a bit too loud voice, and a moment later David's face was peering into the nook. "What's wrong?"

Mary Margaret glanced at Belle and then took the wad of tissues, pushing them into his hand. "Can you throw this away and bring us a piece of writing paper and a pencil?"

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug. Disappearing almost as fast as he had appeared, sent off with Mary Margaret's quick _thanks Dabid._

Belle gave a little sigh and squeezed Emma one last time before handing her back to Mary Margaret.

"Do you want Emma and me to stay while you write?" the younger girl asked, cuddling her doll close like a baby.

"Yes," Belle nodded, deciding she wanted the company. It didn't take David long to drop off the things, and before long she was forming the letters and realizing that trying to make the letters just so kept her busy, too.

_Happy Mother's day _

_To you from me_

_You're the very best mom for me._


End file.
